Mince Pies and Other Delights
by TheImperfectionista
Summary: Twas the night before Christmas and all Draco wanted was to ignore the holidays was happening. If only the world would stop reminding him of the joys during this festive time. DM/HG fluff one-shot. Written for the Strictly Dramione Christmas Fest 2019


Disclaimer: I don't own anything about the Wizarding World.

This is in dedication to my beta Tridogmom who tried her first mince pie this Christmas holiday. I hope you were able to feel the Christmas spirit reading this whilst eating a warm mince pie. Merry Christmas.

* * *

**Mince Pies & Other Delights**

**By TheImperfectionista**

Once his favourite holiday, filled with lavishly decorated Christmas trees, the scent of spices in the air and mounds of presents, Christmas is no longer the magical holiday of his childhood. Cold echoes travelled through the halls of happy memories long forgotten. Drafts whistled through walls in a faint voice of the past.

It explains why Draco had chosen to be hunched over his desk at the Ministry at six in the evening on Christmas Eve. His left hand ached from writing a long report on the repeal of an outdated thirteenth century law that banned any witch or wizard to carry a bezoar in suspicious circumstances. This wasn't due until next year but sitting in his small windowless office was better than being in the Manor on his own.

A rustle distracted his train of thought and an unusually large purple Ministry memo plane floated on top of his report. To say this was a large memo plane would have been an understatement. It was a behemoth cargo plane, carefully folded with multiple sheets of paper so that it could hold the weight of it's cargo.

A mince pie bigger than a galleon, and equally as golden in it's crust sat on top of Draco's report. It's sugar dusting already sprinkled across his desk during its landing. The top was cut into a star, to reveal glimmers of it's sweet filling inside.

The blond quickly dashed out into the corridor and looked around for any signs of another employee. Empty hallways decorated in wreaths of holly and pine cones were silent. Draco carefully closed the door to his office and pointed his wand at the mince pie.

"Revelio," he chanted. Nothing happened. He tried other spells in case the offensive Christmas treat was poisoned, charmed or cursed. It continued to remain on his desk, looking delectable as ever.

Finally Draco sat back down and lifted the pie to his face. Sprinkles of gold on the crumbly pastry glistened in the candle light. Clearly someone was feeling charitable this holiday, he thought and so he took a bite. Crumbs dusted his lips and chin while fruit burst in his mouth in a festive dance.

It was the closest he had felt to being a child again. As he chewed and savoured the pie, tears fell down his cheeks. How he missed Christmas.

* * *

Another year and another Christmas Eve Draco had chosen to spend in his office. Except this year, he had locked his office door so that no memos can fly in.

He never spoke to other Slytherin alumni or made new friends, choosing to study ancient runes instead. While his peers were being considered for promotion, the Ministry heads of department would pass him over. For it was one thing to have a redeemed Death Eater in your department, quite another to have one in charge.

His quill continued to scratch against the parchment as he heard the fading murmurs of excited employees leave the Ministry. They were heading home to their loved ones, drinking mulled wine, and wrapping presents. But tonight, he would contently enjoy a bottle of elf-made wine and sleep all day tomorrow. His plan was foolproof. The candles glowed as the night crept on, not even a house-elf could be heard from outside. Draco felt confident that his plans for the evening had worked out when he finally decided to pop open a bottle of wine.

Thump, thump, thump

The wizard was about to pour a glass when he heard the sound. Perhaps it was his imagination and so he poured a glass of wine.

Thump, thump, thump again. Putting down the bottle and glass, Draco held out of his wand. Before he opened the door in a defensive stance.

A purple cargo paper plane flew into his office and landed smoothly on his desk. Yet again, a golden mince pie sat on top of it, it's sugar crystals and gold dusting sparkling in the candlelight.

"Homenum revelio," Draco cast the spell, but not a single person was around. Looking carefully down the corridors for any glimmer of a disillusionment charm, he concluded that nobody was there.

He closed and locked his office door again. Sitting at his desk, he took a long swig from his wine glass, glaring at the innocent crusty mince pie. Whoever this annoying do-gooder was, he wanted to throw the damn thing back in their face. He didn't need anybody's pity and charity. No. He's nobody's charity case. Downing his glass before he poured himself another drink. He was determined to drink the entire bottle before he even touched a single crumb.

* * *

Since last Christmas, Draco hadn't set foot in his ancestral home. Left it to gather dust when he moved into a small unused cottage on the edge of the estate. This turned out for the better as it allowed him to have a place of tranquility when he wasn't at work or thinking about work.

There had been small changes in his office. Such as the new enchanted window to reflect his promotion as the Senior Clerk of Regulatory and Legal Restructuring Inquiry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The reality is that his promotion came about only because a Hogwarts graduate joined the department. Therefore the department heads changed his job title, increased his pay by twelve sickles and had a window installed. Which was currently showing the most irritating view of pine trees laden thick with perfect fluffy snow.

It gave more reason to retreat to the comfort of his cottage later on. However Draco had devised a trap for the anonymous mince pie sharer, if they turn up again.

The door was sealed shut and Draco waited whilst editing his report. The bell, signalling his trap on his desk, rang and Draco sprang into action. Within moments the door swung open, a mince pie crushed into a pastry storm in his doorway.

Draco casted a sticking charm to the floor, glueing anyone who was standing in the perimenter to the spot.

"Bugger!" a voice whispered

Taking a few tentative steps into the empty corridor, he held out his arm until a silky sensation grazed his fingers. He grasped at that feeling and pulled it back. Large caramel eyes stared back at him in shock. He smirked.

"Hello, Granger."

Draco watched Hermione Granger's pink lips drop in speechlessness. She opened and closed her mouth before stiffening her spine, chin up in a familiar haughty expression.

"Please un-stick me from the floor," the brunette commanded and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Not until you explain why you keep sending me bloody mince pies on Christmas Eve, three years in a row."

"There is no reason why Malfoy. It's a simple mince pie and it's Christmas."

"Well I don't need your Christmas cheer and good will. So don't ever send me one again."

With a flick of his wand, Hermione became unstuck. Maybe he should have warned her before she lost her balance and proceeded to fall onto him. Mince filling slipped under the sole of his shoe as he tried to catch the witch. Before he knew it Granger was fully on top of him, while he lay winded covered in mashed pie.

"Merlin, Granger. That really hurt," he accused her, as he tried to regain his breath. Her hair was in his face, overwhelming him with it's clean and pleasant scent.

"You're the one who stuck me to the floor, ruined a perfectly good mince pie, which I spent ages making, made me slip, and now you have the audacity to accuse me!" Hermione shouted, her hands framing his head so her face was close above his.

Draco felt an unwanted stirring from the way her soft body was pressed up against his. His heart leapt to his throat in a panic.

"Just get off me you silly witch."

His hands wrapped around her waist and he was surprised to find quite nice to touch, pushing her off him. Scrambling up and dusting off as much pie crumbs off him as he could. Draco made a rushed exit from the Ministry. Though he never looked behind him, he still heard the unmistakable long sniff to know Granger was crying.

* * *

Guilt was a frequent friend in Draco's life. It usually accompanied him wherever he went and these days it was usually quiet. However the days following Christmas Eve, guilt was a persistent companion nagging in his ear. By New Year's Eve, he had had enough of it's sniping. Draco left his cottage carrying a bottle of elf-made wine, determined to find someone.

By the time he arrived at the Ministry, he had already scoured Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and even Knockturn Alley. So he was relieved to finally spot the unmissable mass of brown curls bobbing in the crowd within the Atrium.

He navigated through the throng of partygoers, his hand reached out and grasped the witch's bare shoulder. Whatever words he had planned to say were forgotten as Hermione turned around with a beaming smile on her face. Her face dropped as she realised who stood before her.

"What do you want?" she said, arms crossed defensively.

Draco pretended he didn't realise it only accentuated her low cut dress. He thrust the bottle he had been carrying for almost two hours at her.

"An apology," Draco said. But Hermione stepped back almost disgusted.

"I'm not giving you an apology Malfoy!" she shouted back at him.

"No. I meant I'm giving you an apology," he corrected. Why was it so hard to apologise to this infuriating witch?

"Oh." Her eyes lowered down to stare at the bottle of wine which he still held out to her. "Well go on then."

Draco was lost for words.

"I just did," he defended.

"No you didn't. You said 'an apology'. It doesn't mean you made an apology."

Draco swallowed hard as the crowd around him started to shout a countdown to the new year.

"I'm sorry," he shouted over the voices.

"Twenty nine, twenty eight.." The crowd roared.

"Why?" Hermione asked, unimpressed.

"Twenty four, twenty three…"

"For destroying your mince pie," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Why would you do that?" As Hermione watched him questioningly, he felt the bile rise in his throat.

"Fourteen, thirteen..."

"Because they were delicious and I hate Christmas. It reminded me of everything I used to love but it's not and never will be the same," he confessed and the weight that sat in his stomach shifted.

"Three, two, one. Happy New Year!" the crowd cheered in delight, oblivious to the two people who stared dumbfounded at each other.

Fireworks bloomed overhead in the Atrium, showering them in a spectrum of glimmering flecks. Draco watched as Hermione's face moved closer to his, her caramel eyes closing as she inched even closer. When a feather light kiss brushed against his cheek, his stomach fluttered and his lungs gasped for breath. Her hair tickled his nose as she stepped back, her smile had him transfixed.

"Happy New Year Malfoy. I hope you find the festive spirit eventually," she said, easing the bottle of wine out of his white-knuckle grasp.

"By the way, I have some leftover mince pies in my office. If you would like to share one now."

A faint blush spread across Hermione's cheeks and Draco nodded. Perhaps he may learn to love the holidays again after all.

**The End**


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